


We All Fall Down Sometimes

by Jellybeankelley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Trying something new
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellybeankelley/pseuds/Jellybeankelley
Summary: He couldn't deal with his life anymore.  With his mistakes.  With the expectations people had of him.  He was lost and couldn't continue on anymore.Then she saved him.
Kudos: 10





	1. Instructions

**Author's Note:**

> My new story. I only have a slight idea of where I am going with this. I am not answering questions or comments at this time regarding this story. I know I should be working on my other story but, I have hit a road block that I can't move around at the moment. This will be short chapters that will contain only scenes or memories. I have a few ideas about where I will eventually take this but it will be multiple chapters and only mildly graphic. It will contain scenes of dark mental issues and conversations about suicide or attempted suicide. This whole story will use BDSM and D/s as mental health and sexual health tools. I know some people do not believe that is possible, I disagree. If this is not your cup of tea I am not offended. 
> 
> These are J.K. Rowling's creations and I make no money from this. I do not claim these characters I just borrow them and make them do things.

**Present Day**

He sat back on his knees on the floor. This was the position she told him to get in when he left his parents house. This was supposed to help keep him centered, but he felt like he was falling. It was too much to be around his family. They brought out his deepest fears and his self-hatred. They didn't mean to but, their well meaning comments to him pushed him to his breaking point today. 

Now they knew what he had worked so hard to keep private. They knew his secrets. Because of his reactions they knew her secrets. Because of him she had to step in. Because of him she had to take control. It was all in the open now because of him. It was his fault. He ruined everything.

Again. 

He was headed down a hole so deep and vast he couldn't see the edge. 

He was having trouble breathing. 

He felt like he was going to vomit. 

His vision blurred a little bit on the edges.

She called his a panic attack. He figured she was right.

She was about most things. 

He tried to remember her voice in his ear. 

_"Go home. Kneel in your space. Do not turn on the lights. Hands on your knees. Eyes on the floor. Count your breathing. Wait for me."_

When ever he started to have an episode, or a relapse, or a need that she had to meet for him, she did that. She gave him short quick instructions. She didn't wait to get his opinion although, she did ask him to share his thoughts and feelings most days with her about a number of things. She did not ask for his permission. What started in a moment of desperation for him had become a lifestyle for them to share. She pulled him back from the edge. The day he stood muscles clenched to jump was the day this started. She pull him back and forced him to submit. It was not her way at all but, she saved him. 

He focused on his instructions.

_Go home._

He went home. To her home. Where he felt most at home was always with her. It was her space really. She found it. She purchased the home. However she made sure it was his too. It was his. He knew that while he kept a flat near the Ministry it was only a place to go as a last resort. He wanted to get rid of it but, as she had not invited him to make her home his, he kept it. It didn't feel like a home. She kept his favorite tea here. She purchased a dresser for his clothes. She gave him half of the closet. His things were in her bathroom. She stocked her bookshelves with some of his favorites. The things they used during their time together were here. She made room for him in her space even though he never asked. Yes this was his home. 

_Go home._ Done.

_Kneel in your space._

His space. Her home but, his space. The second largest bedroom upstairs in the back. It was hidden by magic to everyone but them. It was a room that was secret kept. There was a master bedroom and two smaller guest bedrooms but then there was this. She held the secret herself and the only person she shared it was him. Ever. He was the only person she had ever let in here. It was his space. Never shared. His. He had had so few things that were his in his lifetime. The floor was padded with thick mats and it was solid black except for one square directly in the middle of the room that was a bright blue. She said it matched his eyes. It was his space. He sank down to his knees. His feet resting under him. 

_Kneel in your space_. Done.

_Do not turn on the lights._

He was not a fan of the dark. She knew this but, she told him not to turn on any lights. So he didn't. When the door open small bluebell flames tucked safely in jar lit by her own enchantment. It was her concession to take care of him. She left him small amounts of light so he wasn't completely in the dark. He never told her he was afraid of the dark, she just knew. He told her all of his other fears. He didn't think he ever told her that one though. She probably figured out his fear from his behavior. Normally when he came to his room he lit a few candles for her to be able to see before he waited for her. But this time....she told him not to turn on the lights. 

_Do not turn on the lights._ Done.

_Hands on your knees._

He looked down to make sure. Yes he remembered. He put his hands palms down on his knees. He was tall so it extended his forearms to nearly straight. Yes even through his fear and panic he remembered this order. This one changed a lot. Sometimes he had to extend his hands behind him and keep them straight. Sometime he had to hold his hands behind him grasping his forearms directly behind his back. Sometimes he had to keep them on his head. Other times he had to hold them straight out in front of him. She always inspected his hand and arms. It was important. It was part of how she took care of him. 

_Hands on your knees_. Done.

_Eyes on the floor._

His eyes were trained on the edge of his square. Where the black and the blue met each other. He watched the line. He focused on the line so that his eyes didn't wander. When he focused he could calm down more. Stay away from the panic that was flooding him. He was not normally told to keep his eyes down. Normally she would set a chair in front of him and tell him to look at her. That was always how she knew. It was how she knew what he needed. He knew she watched him carefully. If he told a lie she knew. She always reminded him that none of this would work if he wasn't completely honest with her. Even when it was hard. Even when it made how he was feeling worse. She had to know the truth to help him. She watched his eyes and she knew. 

If he was holding something back.

If he was embarrassed.

If he was not being truthful. 

If he really didn't want to tell her what was happening. 

His eyes told her what he needed even when he couldn't tell her. 

He kept his eyes trained on the floor. That was what she said to do. He watched his line. 

_Eyes on the floor._ Done.

_Count your breathing._

She taught him this. How to count your breathing so you don't panic. How to quiet your body by monitoring your breathing. 4-7-8 Deep breath in for 4 seconds. Hold it in for 7 seconds. Exhale for 8 seconds. Count your breathing. Focus on your counting. Focus on your vision. Count. 

Count 4

Count 7

Count 8

Again and again until it became second nature to breath and count. Until your mind quieted because it was focused on something else. Count until she came for you. 

_Count your breathing._ Done.

_Waiting for me._

Another command that was not usually given. 

It was a reminder really.

She was coming for him.

She would be there for him. 

She would come for him. 

She would take care of him. 

She would help him handle his pain. His fears. His needs. 

And he would wait. 

_Wait for me._


	2. Wait for Me

_Wait For Me_

As he sat in his space he felt the wards shift just ever so slightly. They were her wards but, she had added him to them so he would always know when someone was coming or going. He had a key to her place and he was able to let himself in when he needed. 

He would come over and do any tasks she asked him to do. Sometimes they were as easy as starting dinner which she preferred to do the muggle way. Honestly as nice as magic was he preferred to do some things the muggle way as well. Clothes just seemed cleaner when washed the muggle way and, while it did take longer, food seemed to taste better when you let all the flavors simmer together the muggle way. Plus he thought that the Crock Pot might be the most amazing thing he had ever seen for cooking. 

Other times he would be order to do things like clean the guest bathroom so he would let himself in and clean it before she got home and then she would check his work. She would go through it and make sure it was completely cleaned and sanitized and if it wasn't he was punished. 

This was what he agreed too. 

It didn't start like that. The first time she gave him a chore he rebelled. 

They had been together for about three months at that point.

The night she stopped him. The night she saved him. He counted that as their first night together. She gave him one chore. He was to dust her study before she came home. He argued and was hot headed and patriarchal. She kicked him out of her home and told him to come back when and if he was ever ready. 

It took four days. 

Four days for him to feel like he was crawling out of his skin and desperately trying not to fall apart before he was banging down her door and begging her to forgive him. 

It was a Saturday when he came back. She gave him one single owl feather and told him to dust her study. She took his wand and told him if he wanted her forgiveness he would earn it. 

He dusted all day long with that lone feather. All her books, her end tables, her desk, her lamps, and every other surface. He worked from the time he got there in the early morning until late at night. 

She allowed him a break for lunch and dinner which she made and watched as he ate. She did not eat with him that day. She just watched. 

She said nothing the whole day. She worked as he did. Him dusting and her sitting at her desk scratching out papers and writings. She did not speak to him once. 

It was different because she normally spoke quite a bit to him. 

She didn't speak so neither did he. During the whole time he was working he said not one word. He ate what he was given to eat without question. 

The quiet was nice at first, very peaceful. However the longer the day went on the more it made him nervous. 

But he waited. 

He was trying to earn a second chance so he would wait. 

When he was finally done with his task the sun had fully set and she was no longer in the room with him. He set the feather down on her desk and went to look for her. She was reading in the living room sitting in a large chair with her feet propped up on a very small stool. 

"I'm done dusting." he told her. 

"Good." she replied to him and pointed to the stool where her feet had just been. "Sit down here and I will go a see how you did." She gave it as an order. He recognized it as an order. 

He sat down. The stool was far to short for him, his knees came up to his chest, but he sat and he waited. 

She was gone for a long time. Far longer than it should take to walk down a hall and check his work. She left him sitting there waiting. 

The longer he waited the more anxious he became. He was fidgeting and very nervous the longer it took. He needed it to be done well. He needed her. It was probably unhealthy how much he needed her but he truly did. 

When she walked back into the room it was like all his tension eased. 

"You did a very good job on my study in a difficult situation. You did very well." While she said this she moved to stand behind and she ran her fingers through his hair. She gave his hair a few gentle tugs which was something she knew he really enjoyed and she continued speaking with him. 

"If we are going to do this there has to be rules. You have to understand that when I tell you to do something I expect it to get done. I expect you to listen to me without questioning everything. If you have questions I will answer you at the appropriate time which is not when I ask you to do a small task. Dusting that room like I asked you too would have taken a matter of two or three minutes with your wands. You wanted to disagree and not do as you were asked so it took you all day." 

She moved to sit down in the chair she was previously in. He was looking up at her from his seat when she met his eye. 

"What we do has to come from a place of respect. I respect you. I respect the authority you are giving me over your body, your healthy, you choices, and your magic. You have to return the same respect to me or this relationship as it is can go no further."

She handed him a sheaf of papers and told him to read them and consider what they said. She sent him home and told him he had to wait until the next weekend to see her again. She said he lacked patience and needed to learn that immediate gratification wasn't always the answer. He had to wait a full seven days to be with her again. Not even just to exist in the same room as her. 

That week he saw her every where at work. It was so hard.

She had told him to wait when all he wanted to do was run to her. He needed her but, he couldn't have her. 

She had told him if he couldn't wait, he couldn't stay with her and it was his choice that he had to make. She said she had the authority but he was the one who granted it to her. What good was giving away the authority over those things if you could not trust the person you gave it too?

He had to wait one week to consider the documents. He had to wait one week to see her again. 

Not even a real week just really six days really since he went home so late. 

So he did what she asked and he waited. 

It was the first of many time he learned to wait. 


	3. Journal

_The Journal_

He waited patiently for her to come. 

The walls were warded for sound so he couldn't hear her moving around in the house. He couldn't even guess at where she was or what she was doing. 

That wasn't really true he did have one guess. He actually figured he was right too. 

She required that he keep a journal. 

She knew he had trouble communicating. The way he had been raised it wasn't encouraged for him to be very open. He needed to tow the line and keep in his place. He was the good child who never created any problems. Until he did cause a problem and that led to more problems. Problems that she was still helping him handle. 

She knew he had trouble handling big emotions. He took everything to personally and he could feel too much. Any mistakes that were made were internalized until the _what if_ demons shredded his soul and took his sanity and his ability to make non-destructive choices. 

He couldn't manage it when he felt that way. A lifetime of keeping everything bottled up had lead to some awful habits for him.

The war had made it worse. 

The war had made him come to close to.....well she saved him then. 

He still had a hard time dealing with the things in his mind that night. The choices he had almost made. 

She knew that this was hard for him. Processing big emotions. Making mistakes. She had learned during her youth that sometimes the best way process everything she was feeling was to write it down.

To help him she had him to the same thing. 

Write it down. Give yourself a safe space to process thoughts and emotions. 

In his journal he was asked to keep all the things that he thought or felt. It could be mean and petty and if he wrote it down in there it was his ultimate safe space. He could complain about work something which she usually allowed him to do to an extent but if he was angry and needed to swear or rage that wasn't allowed. She encouraged him to write it out. Most of the time when he was finished he felt better. The emotion wasn't as strong as it had been. By giving himself the time to acknowledge he had these hard feelings or wicked thoughts and then write them down to he gain a measure of self-control. He was more in control of it all. He hated being out of control. 

When he couldn't control things, she usually did. 

If they had problems between them that were small or if he was upset by something that happened he had a hard time telling her about it. He struggled to tell her. He struggled to ask her for things that he needed. He sometimes wrote them in his journal. He wrote all of his secret desires. Some of the more recent ones since his relationship with her had started and some of the older feelings he had during his Hogwarts years or directly after. Sometimes he was ashamed of what he needed. Ashamed of what he wanted. Real men didn't need this. Real men were leaders and not followers. They would never allow a woman the kind of control that he did. Not to function. 

But no, she told him that all kind of people both men and women needed what he did. She held him for hours telling him that there was nothing wrong with him and that these kind of things could be handled in a controlled way so that is was healthy for both people involved. There was nothing wrong with what he needed as long as it came with consent. She always got his consent. 

His journal was how he asked for things. 

Things that were hard to say.

Things that made him feel ashamed to need. 

Secret things that he couldn't even mention out loud. Sometimes they were things he couldn't even admit to himself. 

But when he could, he wrote them down. 

They had a system that worked for him. If he needed her to read something he would leave the journal on her nightstand where her usual to read pile was. He would mark where he wanted her to start reading with a black ribbon. She would read it when she came home from work. Then at the end of the day she would have him sit on the foot stool where he sat all that time ago after dusting her study with that lonely owl feather and she would talk with him about whatever it was. Sometimes he could find the courage to talk about it but other times he just nodded or shook his head as she asked him questions or gave him her opinions. 

She never read the journal without his permission. 

Unless he had a meltdown. Since he had been with her meltdowns were less frequent. 

But they did still happen. 

Like today.

It had only happened one other time during their relationship. Work had been hell for him. One particular co-worker was making his life miserable and after a long day where every thing that could go wrong did he self destructed. 

They got home around the same time that day. He was late from fixing all of _his_ mistakes and he came threw the floo in a rage. He yelled and he screamed and he threw things. He was spiraling out of control. 

He couldn't remember how it happened but she managed to grab his hair and pull him down to her. She tripped him to the floor and sat on his back while holding on to his hair. She ordered him to the room and to his space. He sat their in nothing but his shorts as ordered while she turned down the temperature in the room. He waited cold and upset. He knew he had gone to far. She would be done with him. She would tell him to leave. He was shivering and upset with himself for his loss of control and she would leave him. 

She left him waiting a long time. 

When she came into the room she had his journal. She sat in front of him and told him to look at her. At first he was hurt that she read it but it ended up not being a bad thing. He hadn't told her what was going on at work. She reminded him that this type of relationship could only work with open honest communication. She promised she would never violate his privacy without reason but she didn't know what was happening at work. She didn't know about his co-worker until she read his journal. She also told him that the journal saved him a meeting with her whip because she found out this had been an ongoing problem that he wasn't able to deal with. 

Oh he was still punished for his outrage and destruction that night but not as severely. 

Two days later the co-worked was demoted and transferred. His choices during the war might have taken away all of his upward mobility in a way that he could never redeem but, she would always have his back. 

His meltdown tonight was far more internal that they last had been. He guessed she was reading his words and his thoughts and feelings on his family and his place with them. He was sure she would take her time and read it cover to cover if she thought it would help her understand how to help him.

The journal wasn't his safe space. She was. 

He shared it with her more often than he would have thought he would but it helped him communicate. 

Today when the situation took away his ability to function and communicate she would help him. When he devolved on the living room floor into a broken mess she would read the journal. She would be there for him. She would read his thoughts, his words, his insecurities, his desperation to just fit in, and she would help him. 

She would read his journal and understand him. He couldn't tell her so she taught him how to tell her without words. 


End file.
